


Tales as Old as Time

by wibblywobblytimeturners



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblytimeturners/pseuds/wibblywobblytimeturners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a different short story/drabble delving into the life of and the relationship between the Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler. It spans from season 2-4 and onward with the relationship between the meta-crisis Tentoo and Rose. Fluff, angst...anything Ten/Rose</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of the Doctor Who universe or it's characters! Hope you enjoy!

Being part-human was an entirely new experience for the Doctor.  
Sure, he had been human before with the use of a fob watch, but that had been different. John Smith had been an entirely separate person. Now, though, he was himself, and he was also part-human. And it was terrifying and exciting all at once.  
One heart felt strange and inefficient. He needed to catch his breath more often, and he understood why Donna had always complained about their constant running, chasing and fleeing. On top of that, external temperatures had a greater effect on him than before. He’d have to put on jackets, scarves and jumpers to withstand the cold of winter, and take off his regular apparel of suit and trench coat to don something lighter in summer months.

“ Humans are so…fragile, “he said one day during his first winter with the Tylers in Pete’s world. They were all going on a walk together (Jackie had begun pushing exercise to coincide with a new diet she was on, and was pressing everyone else to participate with her) and The Doctor had had to bundle up in a scarf and jumper before leaving his and Rose’s apartment. When Rose rolled her eyes at his comment, he said, “Well, it’s true! Every species has their weakness: the back of the neck for Judoon, staring at a Weeping Angel, acetic acid and a Raxacoricofallapatorian…and then humans just seem so flimsy and weak at everything. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” He was smiling; obviously trying to get a reaction.  
“I’m not too fragile to smack you, you know,” Jackie responded, huffing past him with her head held high and streams of hot air rising from her mouth in the cool air.  
“Well, there’s your answer, Doctor,” Rose said, linking arms with him and resting her head against his shoulder. “My mum’s how the human race has survived.”  
“You know, I don’t doubt that, actually.” He wrapped his arm around Rose’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they continued walking. “ Jackie Tyler: Champion of the Human Race,” he said with an air of fake bravado. Rose smiled, not necessarily at his frankly subpar joke, but in complete and simple contentment. He couldn’t help but break into a goofy grin as well. Then, without either of them realizing they had stopped, they were both standing in the middle of the street, smiling and looking into each other’s eyes. He would never tire of searching the depths of those eyes, which pierced and healed and loved and had seen so much. He would never tire of waking up to those eyes and that hair and those lips of the one who had given him reason to believe again.  
Without thinking he reached a hand up to her face, and brushed away a loose strand of hair, then trailed his thumb along her cheekbones; her jawline. Rose let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been keeping in and leaned into his touch.  
“Oi! You two should save looks like that for the bedroom!” Jackie called, further along down the street.  
The Doctor let out a hearty laugh as Rose giggled and grabbed his hand, pulling him off down the street with her, smiling mischievously. He felt his breath catch in his throat.  
And that’s what scared him so much about being part human. When Rose smiled, whether it be her smile of utter joy that overtook her face, or her mischievous one with her tongue between her teeth, he couldn’t help but feel weak, and an almost pleasant kind of sick feeling. His knees became wobbly or his stomach felt as though it were performing gymnastics whenever he was in her presence. Often he felt youthful and carefree and spirited, but others he would be still and breathless. He was always so hungry for the next kiss; for her hands running through his hair and the taste of her lips on his. They were two pieces of a puzzle, with every disfigured, swooping or jagged edge of quirks and faults and triumphs integrating together seamlessly. She made him yearn for the monotony of everyday life and the adventures of a life in a strict and linear timeline. She made him feel vulnerable and invincible; fretful and confident; clever and clueless, all at the same time.  
So it was never the single heart or increased sensitivity that made him feel utterly human.  
It was his Rose Tyler who made him feel less like an ancient and lofty Lord of Time, and more like a man hopelessly and foolishly in love.


	2. The One Where Ten Regenerates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten is regenerating alone, insane and afraid. But someone in another universe, tethered to his very being, can feel him burning. And Tentoo is anchored to reality by his Rose.
> 
> This came from me toying with the idea that Tentoo knew when Ten regenerated.

Every cell in his body was dying, burning and screaming for reprieve. It was as though he was being torn apart at the very basic building blocks of himself; ripped into fragments and puzzle pieces to be rearranged once more with scorching tools.  
He jerked awake, and there was silence. The night was still, broken only by Rose’s steady breathing beside him on the bed. Rubbing his eyes he sat up and turned to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet around and onto the floor. The Doctor put his face in his hands, wincing in pain at every movement, and he knew why.  
The man who was both him and not him, the man who had brought about death and destruction, yet wore the name of a healer, was being rewritten, redesigned, and regenerated. That man would cease to exist as another man rose from the ashes; a new man who would be a stranger to him.  
As the feeling of being tethered to another being withered, the Doctor quickly got to his feet and made his way to the bathroom where he hastily flicked the light on and stared intently in the mirror. He clenched his fists around the sink for support and his face contorted in the blinding pain again. Beads of sweat ran down his face from his messy hair, and he was left heaving and gasping fervently for air. All the while he tried to keep a steady focus on the mirror, and remind himself that his form remained the same. It was another man being blown out like a candle, not him.  
“I’m still alive. I’m alive. I’m still me. I’m still me,” he said between gasps, his voice hoarse.  
“Doctor?” There was faint whisper from the bedroom, followed by the groaning of bedsprings. Rose appeared behind him, rubbing her eyes in the light. She was wearing a nightdress that hugged her curves just the way he liked.  
That was another thing he had. He had his life, his unchanging face, and…her. Rose Tyler. His Rose Tyler. After all this time, he could finally call her his.  
“Are you alright? What’s happenin’?” There was worry in her voice.  
“It’s just…It’s just a headache, Rose.” He turned from the sink and looked to her, his anchor, who tethered him in the sea of pain and grief. But he had to lie to her this time, to protect her. How could he tell her that in another universe the man she loved was dying, burning like the sun he had burned to say goodbye?  
His Rose was clever, though, and saw through the lie. He saw in her eyes that she knew, but didn’t press the issue. She placed her hand on his cheek, caressing it with her thumb, and looked into his eyes, her own brown ones filled with concern and compassion. Reluctantly he looked away, unable to hold her gaze. Rose moved her hand to his forehead.  
“Doctor, you’re burning up.”  
“Yes I am very hot, aren’t I?” he said cheekily, cracking a smile.  
Rose rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a fever, you prat. Come back to bed. I’ll make you some tea, alright?”  
“No. No tea. Please.” Tea enhanced cognitive functions, and he didn’t want to think then. He yearned for oblivion, for the pain to end, for the fires to go out.  
“What do you need, then?”  
He ran a hand through her disheveled hair, mattered from slumber. Then he smiled slightly and said, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries, “just…stay with me.”  
“Forever.” She smiled in return. “Come on, you, off to bed then. And no stealing the blanket this time. You’ve been tossin’ and turning all night. “  
And she turned the light off behind them before leading him back to bed. When they were laying down and facing each other again, he whispered just then what the other man, dying or dead by now, had never been able to.  
"I love you.”  
Rose didn’t say anything, but instead cradled his face between both her hands and kissed him: on his nose, forehead, cheeks, chin, all over; every single one screaming that she loved him, too.  
There’s an old saying that freckles are kisses from an angel, and The Doctor is covered in freckles. They are as numerous as the stars in the sky. He likes to believe he received them just then, from his angel.  
Soon he closed his eyes again, and the Ood sang him to sleep.


	3. Oh, Martha Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha, being the brunt of the emotions of a heartbroken Doctor, wonders what exactly was between the man she loves and the notorious Rose Tyler. And one day she finds out.

It was a Saturday when Martha found out.  
Or at least she thought it was. Time got funny in the TARDIS, but she had made her own calendar and kept track of the time though they never stayed put in one time stream. If she were to not keep track, then who would? Traveling through time made her realize how fickle life was. All the people she had met were just blots of ink on the canvas of an ever-expanding universe.  
And yet… the Doctor was lord over it all. He had the power to play the puppetmaster and pull the strings of eternity, but he didn’t. “Just a traveler,” he had always said. He knew to admire beauty when it was there, not damage it, and to heal it when possible. How could she not love him?  
He never noticed her, though. He was so wonderful and wanted to see everything except her, it seemed. Even then on that Saturday he had wandered off in the TARDIS, clearly wanting to be alone.  
She knew he had been hurt in the past. He lost all of his people. But she could see a different sort of sadness in his eyes.  
Separate.  
He had told her that he was separated from his previous companion, Rose, shortly before they met. He didn’t talk about her, though. Sometimes when they were off together, on yet another adventure, and the Doctor got excited, he had a far-away look in his eye, and Martha knew he wasn’t looking at her anymore. So she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had been between him and the notorious Rose Tyler.  
But that self-identified Saturday Martha strolled through the console room absentmindedly when she saw a crumpled post-it note amidst the levers and pulleys. She picked it up and opened it, immediately recognizing the circular scrawl as Gallifreyan, or at least English words and sounds in Gallifreyan. When the Doctor had told Martha about Gallifrey she had demanded he teach her the language. She pulled a piece of paper with the key for the different letters and sounds from her pocket and translated.  
“’Rose Tyler. ‘” she said slowly, reading it out loud. “’I love you.’”  
And she knew.


End file.
